


Always Chasing You

by singlebluerose



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Museums, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlebluerose/pseuds/singlebluerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although he's mostly given up his career as master thief, Leonard Snart has made a hobby of stealing things from the newly-established Flash museum, and it's entirely because he knows it'll piss Barry off. For once, though, he's not there to steal—he's got a different plan in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Chasing You

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I've been in a really fluffy mood lately? Also, I don't know anything about the comics but I know a Flash museum or something exists, and at least for the TV show Barry Allen I headcanon him as having a lot of self-hate and self-worth and guilt issues, so I'd see him as resenting it or at the very least not feeling like he deserves it. (That sounds angsty but I don't really touch on that in the actual fic; it's really just fluff, I promise).

“Uh, dude," Cisco says, coughing into his hand like he's trying to hide a laugh. "Your boyfriend's at it again."

"For real?” Barry groans, abruptly changing directions from back to STAR Labs after another routine patrol towards the direction he knows Len will be in. He doesn't even have to ask anymore. "Will he ever stop?"

This time Cisco doesn't bother to hide his laugh, and Barry scowls, picturing the look of amusement on Cisco's face—all at Barry's expense. Some friend he is. "Honestly? I hope not. It just gets funnier every time."

Barry splutters, making a noise of disgruntled betrayal. "Cisco! You're supposed to be on my side here!"

"I thought we were all on the same side now, aren't we?" Cisco says, and Barry can practically hear him grinning through the comms. “Anyway, I'll leave you two to it. I'm heading out for the night, anyway." 

Before Barry can protest that if he has to suffer through this again, then Cisco does too, he hears the distinctive ' _click_ ' of the comms being shut off on Cisco's end, and then nothing but the sound of the wind rushing in his ears.

Barry sighs and resigns himself to his fate, phasing easily through the doors—now closed for the night—and skidding to a stop in the middle of the Flash museum. He shivers as he scans the main room for Len—he appreciates the sentiment behind the building, but God, he hates this place. And Len, being Len, seems determined to continue making it the bane of his existence. If it were up to Barry, he’d just pretend it didn’t exist.

It’s not hard to find Len, and when he does, he zips over to him, stopping a few feet away with his hands on his hips and his very best scowl on his face.

“Fancy meeting you here, Flash,” Len drawls, completely undaunted in the face of Barry’s withering glare. “You know I’m just _such_ a big fan.”

"Len, seriously,” Barry says, pressing his fingers his head and massaging his temples in exasperation, “this is the fourth time this week! Get another hobby!"

"Well hello again to you too, darling," Len says with all his usual snark, that infuriating smirk playing across his face as he twirls something around his fingers. Barry narrows his eyes, and then turns his gaze to the display behind Len where a prototype of Barry's first Flash suit (well, his and Cisco’s first Flash suit, he corrects himself, knowing his friend would have his head if he knew he’d thought otherwise) stands encased behind glass. Or, well, it used to, but now the glass is very clearly shattered. With something very obvious missing. Sure enough, when Barry turns his attention back to Len, there it is, the old Flash emblem, surrounded by red to match the rest of the suit rather than the white he has now, being spun it lazily in his hand. 

“Cisco donated that suit, you know,” Barry grumbles, feigning offense on his friend’s behalf, only because he's annoyed. In truth, he doesn't care what happens to it, or really anything in this stupid museum, for that matter. It’s weird and uncomfortable, and he’s still pretty sure he doesn't deserve it. His friends had been thrilled though, and Cisco had been happy to contribute to the ever-growing collection of flash "artifacts", much to Barry's chagrin. On second thought, thinking of Cisco's cheeky smiles every time his friend makes a donation, that's probably why he does it. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be happy to know you’re vandalizing it.”

"Cisco donated half the things in this place," Len says, gesturing around the room with a sweep of his arm, completely unconcerned. "You gonna make me put it back? That’d be a shame. I think it'd be a perfect decoration for our apartment. I'm sure it'd look great on the mantle, right next to that flattering wax Flash statue I stole last week."

"I still can't believe I let you get away with that damn thing," Barry mutters, wrinkling his nose at the thought of the stupid, hideous statue that sits in Len’s apartment, right next to a handful of other items Len’s stolen from here.

"Let me?” Len scoffs, quirking an eyebrow at him in judgement. “Please, it was a fair fight. I got away with it fair and square."

"You're just lucky I don't burn it," Barry says, because really, the only reason why he doesn't give it back to the museum is because he'd rather it be at home where no one else can see it. Really, he’d rather there not be a damn museum in the first place.

“You say that now, but I think it’s growing on you,” Len says, finally stopping the spin of the emblem in his hands, only to wrap his fingers tightly around it.

“Alright, give it back,” Barry says, not bothering to dignify that last statement with a response because _ew_ , no. “Come on, Len, can’t we _please_ just have one night of peace this week? I’m tired. And, like, half of that is your fault. You so owe me a massage or something when we get home.”

Len grins at him and taps a finger against his chin, pretending to consider it. "Sure, I’ll give it back. But only if you catch me first."

Barry rolls his eyes and shoots after Len as he attempts to make his escape, knowing from experience that this could take a while. Really, Barry has fucking super-speed, this shouldn’t be this hard. In fact, catching people is what he’s best at.

With Len, though, it’s never as easy as it sounds.

Barry dodges blasts from the cold gun here and there, but Len’s not really aiming at him—he’s aiming for the ground underneath Barry’s feet, making him slip and slide and putting them on much more even footing; it’s kind of hard to run at any speed when the ground is covered in ice. 

Finally, after a few minutes of cat-and-mouse (during which Barry’s proud to say he only fell twice, thank-you-very-much), Len abruptly comes to a stop in front of a very familiar painting, and Barry hastily attempts to put the brakes on too. Having not expected him to just stop so suddenly, he nearly crashes into Len in surprise. As it stands, Len’s arms shooting out to catch him are the only thing that keeps him from falling flat on his face, and bringing Len down with him. He nearly buries his face into Len’s parka in embarrassment before he remembers that he’s supposed to be annoyed with him and pulls back, but close enough that Len’s hands are still clutching at his arms, keeping him steady.

“You good?” Len says, looking Barry up and down, making sure he didn’t accidentally hit him with a blast from the cold gun.

Barry just _hmphs_ and looks away from Len, trying to keep up his _‘I’m still mad at you’_ front, and stares at the picture Len’s standing in front of. It’s one of the only things Barry likes in this museum—an intricate painting of the Flash up against his old nemesis, the once-nefarious Captain Cold, accurate almost down to the last detail, with both of them immobilized in the action of the fight, lighting and ice surrounding them. It’s beautiful, really, and it sends a little thrill down Barry’s spine to look at it, the familiar lightning sparking in his veins when remembering the familiar buzz of those fights. It’s great to have Len (mostly) on his side now, but sometimes he misses it.

He knows it’s easily Len’s favorite part of this place too, even more so than all the mementos he’s already stolen. The only reason he hasn’t stolen this painting, Len’s told him before, is because he wants it on display, likes the thought of people knowing just who the Flash’s oldest nemesis was. Or is—they’re complicated. Barry had rolled his eyes and laughed at that, but in a way he gets it.

“Barry,” Len says, bringing him back to the present, and he tears his gaze away from the painting to focus on his partner. Len looks…weirdly nervous, which is rare for Len, who even when he’s not feeling confident is always good at keeping up the appearance of it.

“Does this count as me catching you? Because I’d really like to go home now,” Barry says, reaching for the emblem still clutched in Len’s hand when Len finally releases his arms.

Len shakes his head and pulls the hand back. “Not quite, Scarlet. I _let_ you catch me.”

Barry opens his mouth to protest, but Len cuts him off before he can. “Which was the plan, of course. I have you right where I want you, I just—there’s one more thing we need to do here before we can leave.”

“Plan?” Barry says, eyebrows scrunching together, because usually Len’s plan when it comes to this place is just _‘steal from the Flash museum to remind Barry that it still, tragically, exists, and piss off his boyfriend because it’s funny to see him flustered._ ’

“Barry,” Len says again, taking a step closer, the nervousness back in his voice as he takes Barry’s hands, pressing the Flash emblem into his palm. Barry feels his heart speed up as he closes his fingers around the emblem, something small and hard that’s definitely not supposed to be there falling out of it and digging into his skin. He opens his fingers again to take the emblem out of his hand and find what’s underneath, chest already tight and stomach doing summersaults because he thinks he might already know.

Sure enough, where the emblem had been there’s a ring, not too flashy but just right, and Len—Barry looks up with wide eyes to find Len looking at the ring in his hand, staring it down like he’s warning it not to mess this up and pointedly ignoring Barry’s gaze, and Barry feels his heart swell, a warmth rushing through him as his brain finally un-freezes and he processes what this means, what Len is asking of him.

He closes his fingers around the ring, letting the emblem drop and bringing his other hand up to cup Len’s cheek, waiting patiently for Len to look at him. When he finally does, something in his face relaxes, the tension leaving his body in a rush as he takes in Barry’s watery eyes, his bright, beaming smile.

“So—”

“Yes,” Barry says, laughter bubbling up in his chest as he throws his arms around Len. Around his _fiancée_. “God, yes—of _course_.”

Len relaxes even further into his touch, brushing his lips against Barry’s forehead, and Barry can feel the soft upturn of his lips against his skin. “Okay,” Len says, sounding cool and collected again, but Barry can see right through him, to the emotion shaking underneath. “We can go home now.”

 

* * *

 

Later, when they’re lying in bed, Barry’s head resting comfortable against Len’s chest, Len’s heartbeat under his ear as Len traces patterns up and down Barry’s back, he asks, “Does this mean you’ll stop stealing from that museum now?”

He hears Len chuckle in the quiet of the room, and looks up to find him grinning down at him in delight. “Absolutely not.”


End file.
